


it starts on a tuesday

by novoaa1



Series: sundresses and semi-automatics [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, F/F, Guns, Reader-Insert, and all that, and then she meets natasha and theres like rainbows! and chemistry, just kind of a drabble, reader is like the mob boss dudes daughter, reader wears like cutesy clothes and sundresses, seeing if i wanna write more? ion know, trying this out, uhhh, yelenas there too and shes mad moody but we love her for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22249435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novoaa1/pseuds/novoaa1
Summary: “And, this,” he continued, nodding subtly towards the other woman, “is Natasha.”Electricity seemed to surge throughout your body when your eyes raised to meet hers, and you could barely manage a reserved grin along with a murmured, “N-Nice to meet you, Natasha” even whilst she brazenly observed you with apparent interest upon her gorgeous pale features.
Relationships: Natasha Romanov/Reader, Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov
Series: sundresses and semi-automatics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602451
Comments: 8
Kudos: 80





	it starts on a tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> so i like started to see the mob!natasha x reader stuffs on tumblr, thought that was pretty cool, thought i'd maybe make something liek that
> 
> let me know what you think?

Your father was… a complicated man. 

Unquestionably dangerous, emotionally unavailable, all too quick to act in the name of coldhearted vengeance when met with even the basest forms of resistance to his iron-clad will—and yet, he loved you. Wholly, tenderheartedly… always. 

(Even if he didn’t always do well to show it.)

You weren’t even supposed to meet her—Natasha, that is. 

Your father always worked tirelessly to keep business and family separate (though these days, it seemed like the saturated overlap between the two had grown far beyond its bounds), but these people—his new crew: Bucky, Yelena, Steve, _Natasha_ … he _loves_ them, you think. 

Not nearly as much as he loves you (of course), but it’s love just the same, and you know very well that that never comes easy where your father is concerned. 

You still remember the first time you’d met them, the infamous mobsters in your father’s employ. 

It was a Tuesday, and golden sunlight streamed through the bulletproof-glass windows of your late mother’s somewhat high-end bar (an age-old front for your father’s more illicit undertakings), illuminating its polished surfaces and scarcely populated interior. It smelled of pungent beer and blooming honeysuckle and the faintest hint of gunpowder—you’re sure that anyone else might’ve found the combination positively nauseating, but to you, it was familiar. Comforting, even. 

That day, your job was simple—serve drinks for your father and his associates, tend to any stray customers (only those affiliated in some capacity with the business would be allowed in) filtering through, and do your very best to get some schoolwork done whilst the meeting went on. 

Bucky, the usual barkeep, was seated in one of the main booths (the seats a lush forest-green color with auburn trim) along with your father, Steve, and two other intense-looking women you didn’t quite recognize. One was slightly shorter than the other, with bleached-blonde hair, cat-like hazel-green eyes, and an intimidating scowl marring her otherwise rather pretty features; the other was a bit taller with alluring jade green eyes, wavy locks of fiery red hair falling deftly across her shoulders, and a full red-lipped smirk dimpling regal cheekbones that had a heated blush spreading across your cheeks despite yourself as you cautiously approached. 

They were all dressed fairly similarly (as was to be expected), in leather jackets and dark jeans and combat boots, with the exception of your father; he wore a neatly-pressed charcoal-grey suit along with a sleek black necktie that bore a 24-karat golden bar, his greying hair gelled slickly back into a neat close-cropped style. 

(They were all armed to their proverbial teeth, too, you noted without surprise—fully automatic pistols shoved unceremoniously into denim waistbands, a slight convexity to your father’s left-side coat pocket where he typically stored his beloved 9mm Uzi SMG, a thin silver throwing knife resting idly upon the table that glinted dangerously in the afternoon light.)

To make for a rather stark contrast, you were clad in black high-top Converse sneakers and one of your favorite pastel pink sundresses, its delicate hem barely reaching mid-thigh, the low curve of its graceful neckline revealing enough to be something of a tease without being entirely inappropriate. Perhaps it might’ve made you nervous, to be dressed in such cutesy garb amongst these characters any other reasonably sane person would find decidedly unsavory… but instead, you felt at ease. 

And, not only that—you felt… _intrigued_.

Intrigued by the way the redheaded woman was unabashedly eyeing you up and down with an almost hungered look in her green-eyed gaze, the way her confident smirk only widened as she took note of your worsening blush beneath her intent examination, the way she used a single hand to fiddle absentmindedly with the silver throwing knife (which you presumed to be hers) atop the table, each swift movement wrought with an ease that only came from years of experience. 

Still, you did your very best to swallow the apprehension rising in your throat: giving both Bucky and Steve shy smiles in response to their pleasant rumbled greetings, bending to plant a warm kiss upon your father’s age-wrinkled cheek along with a murmured “Hi, Dad” even whilst you could practically feel the redheaded woman’s intent gaze burning through you from across the table all the while. 

“Darling, this is Yelena,” he informed you, gesturing to the moody-looking blonde in the corner of the booth alongside her redheaded counterpart. You anxiously tucked your long hair behind your ear and flashed the woman in question a nervous grin—she didn’t return it. “And, this,” he continued, nodding subtly towards the other woman, “is Natasha.”

Electricity seemed to surge throughout your body when your eyes raised to meet hers, and you could barely manage a reserved grin along with a murmured, “N-Nice to meet you, Natasha” even whilst she brazenly observed you with apparent interest upon her gorgeous pale features. 

“Please, my darling girl,” she practically purred, the impossibly lewd sound of it causing your breath to hitch in your throat. "The pleasure is all mine.”

“Yelena, Natasha, this is my daughter, Y/N,” your father introduced you proudly, evidently oblivious to the palpable tension brewing between you and his newest associate. “She’s the center of my world.”

Natasha chuckled, then, low and throaty, causing the warm blush heating your cheeks to increase tenfold as her gaze unwaveringly held yours. “I can certainly see why that is."

God, you were so screwed. 

— —

**Author's Note:**

> honestly this was super fun to write out 
> 
> thinking about maybe making it a series? who knows
> 
> link to my [tumblr](https://psyches.co.vu/) or just search @ultralightdumbass


End file.
